by Jessica Wynder
They say never judge a book by its cover.
However, I have been judged my entire life based on my color.
From the moment I was born until the moment I take my last breath,
I will be scrutinized for every decision I make in my life until death.
When you look at me, if Black is all you see,
You will never be able to turn the page in order to understand my story—
The struggles I have been through and everything I have overcome.
Your story may not be my story and our trials are not the same:
Until you are worried about your child coming back home alive,
Until you are scared about fitting a cop’s description, hoping to survive,
Until you are driving home at night while being pulled over by a cop
Wondering if you should continue to go or if you should stop.
I keep driving until I see a business with lights and people around.
The cop asked me why I kept driving when I should have stopped or slowed down.
I can recite all the names of the black kids and adults who have been killed by cops,
And yet you wonder why I did not immediately stop.
Because I did not want to be added to the list.
I don’t want to be known as another statistic.
In a world full of racism, how are we as Black people supposed to feel safe
Against a cop and his brutality? Being Black is another strike we cannot escape.
Being Black sometimes feels like a losing battle I cannot win,
Especially when I must defend my blackness to people who will never truly understand
What it takes to be Black, what it means to be Black, how it feels to be Black; you could never comprehend.
I face so much adversity while still being proud of the skin that I am in.
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